Batman: Lies Beneath
by GothicMego
Summary: After uncovering an underground Arkham division, the World's Greatest goes to investigate. But is this truly what it seems? Or is there more than meets the eye...
1. Epilogue: Close, Yet Miles Apart

Gotham cannot be governed by law and order, but can only be suppressed by fear. This was a fact Jim and I knew. The only way to instill law and order was by fighting fire with fire.

Sure, fear is a proven motivator to retain peace, but it too can be used to create chaos.

Croc uses fear in the form of natural, instinctive fear—fear of his build, his animalistic disfigurement and his criminal record.

Jonathan Crane uses fear in the form of biological gases- upfront, straightforward fear.

The Riddler uses his riddles as a medium—a fear that dire consequences will be meted if one fails to piece his clues into one. A fear that what could have been averted was not, and it was due to your incapacity to chisel out the answer staring right at your face.

These three criminal masterminds are extremely capable, but none has ever thought to use fear, not as a motivator, but as a product. A concoction of ordinary elements that ultimately form fear—fear as a compound. Fear at its finest form.


	2. Chapter 1: More than Rubies or Gold

Oracle came across several irregularities whilst doing an archival scan on Arkham. Several close-circuit footage have had been tampered with, as their security log had been in-cohesive with archival footage.

She has sent over a more in-depth detailed report to me. I reviewed it. The older-wing of the facility has had tampered archive folders that did not link up to my personal ones.

Using the WI-14 Satellite I did a full three-dimensional scan of the older wing. There was, indeed evidence of tempered terrain on the courtyards.

I suggested to Oracle that this might be due to a simple technical error. I had just wrapped up Edward Nygma's case and was not ready to go for another one. She countered me saying that it would be of no harm to _enquire _about the findings.

I ended the brief chat shortly afterward. Running a hand over my face, I punched in a few numeric codes into a panel and a steel cabinet rose from behind.

I swung it open and ever so poetically was the cowl once again staring down on me.

"Going out again, Master Wayne?" Alfred slowly descended the rocky steps to the vault where I was.

"Yeah," I nodded and acknowledged him.

I carefully snapped on the bulky electronic gauntlets that served as a portable device to the main console.

Next on I clipped on the Kevlar cape near the suit's neck joints and stretched the rubber mask over my head.

Turning back I remembered that Alfred had came down here with me. He had a excited gleam in his eyes.

"What's up Alfred?" I asked.

"Master Wayne—do you remember you're the philosophy your father went by?"

I squinted. It was an odd question to ask me. Anyhow I would not even count it as _his_ philosophy. It was a common entrepreneurial phrase back in the day.

"Yeah Alfred, what about it?"

"You see Master Wayne, I was doing some thinking. What is truly gained when one loses something."

Alfred liked teasing me with his philosophical ideologies. I was always impressed by his deductions. I feigned an uninterested shrug.

"Experience, Master Wayne."

I tried not to look impressed. Had Alfred truly dissected the philosophy my father went by? I always had this impression that Alfred was able to look through the opaque veil of feigned ignorance I drape over myself in such situations.

"Hmm." I shrugged.

Alfred accompanied me down the lift that led to the dock.

"Arkham Island again, Master Wayne?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Barbara found some irregularities. I'm going to check it out."

Alfred chuckled "Looks like you're the pet bat of the Gordon household."

I never looked at this the way Alfred described it. Do I give the impression that I'm a dog to the Commissioner and Oracle?

The lift rattled to a halt. I unchained the safety barrier and brisk walked my way to the WI-ApSc-P037 Submersible.

I booted the Submersible up. The cockpit slid open as I wedged myself into the claustrophobic helm.

"Good luck Master Wayne, and I hope there won't be an excess amount of experience lugged back here."

I chuckled. There goes my faked 'interest' in his previous statement.

The Submersible bubbled a vertical six meters down then sped off. Navigating my own hide-out is not an easy feat. Limestone pillars reach up for the cave's ceiling. You can't go too low lest you end up scratching the vehicle on the rough bed.

It is, at times, very arduous.


	3. Chapter 2: Origin and Connections

The Wayne family has a more extensive connection to Arkham Island than most Gotham City residence is aware of.

Alan Wayne purchased the island from the Indians. After deeming the island impractical to serve as an alternate holiday home, he presented it to the then influential Cobblepots as a 'gift'. They built an extensive manor atop it.

After they went bankrupt, Jeremiah Arkham bought over the island and the home. I wonder how their son is getting along now.

Similar to Wayne Manor, Alan Wayne had created extensive secret passages and caves after having been mentally scarred by the Civil War.

He has jotted and pinpointed every route he had commissioned to be dug and retained a copy in the Wayne Library.

The only external entrance I know big enough to fit a human in was in full view of the main courtyard. Slowly I submersed the vehicle into the green waters of Arkham and propelled it forward.

I anchored the submersible approximately twenty meters from that very opening. Upon punching a few buttons the buckles retracted. A secret compartment below the dashboard stored some customized scuba gear.

Gingerly I struggled to place the minute oxygen reserves on my utility belt. Another press of a button on my utility belt saw my Kevlar cape retracting into an A-four size lead box that clipped onto my belt.

I took a deep breath then shoved a dissolved oxygen converter into my mouth. Two flaps closed in onto my cheekbones, securing it tightly around my mouth.

Lastly I inserted my hands into two openings above the steering wheel. Some lights blinked and I closed my eyes in anticipation.

"Phhseee…" I was shot out of the cockpit into the water.

The DPV propelled me onwards to the secret opening. I took no less than two minutes for me to reach the target. I steered into the hole, careful not to scratch myself against its rough sides.

The following two minutes found me surfacing and stashing my diving gear, then re-clipping the cape over my shoulder.

Swiftly I found the way to Arkham's office.

There he was, the arrogant Jeremiah Arkham, sitting in the middle of his lavish office. Arkham was relatively unknown until he bought over the island. Many 'well-wishes' tried convincing him that the compound was haunted by the souls of the Cobblepot's abused butlers.

Being a man of science, he shunned them, convincing himself that this very compound will cater to the psychological health of the Gotham and Metropolitan residence.

Having no steady income coming in from this operation he gained himself a lot of respect from the scientific community, at the same time having his operations subjected to countless over audits.

I, myself, respected him, but the only problem with Arkham is his arrogance. I sighed. It isn't going to be easy talking to him.


End file.
